


step by step

by lunarins



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, First Time, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, never bet against a npc folks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-18
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-27 19:07:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30127452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lunarins/pseuds/lunarins
Summary: When Atsumu first invited Kiyoomi over for a ‘Netflix and Chill’ date, this really isn’t exactly what he had in mind.In all fairness, Atsumu isn’t quite sure that Kiyoomi knows what ‘Netflix and Chill’ reallymeans.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 35
Kudos: 283





	step by step

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sifuhotman](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sifuhotman/gifts).



> [in front of the lupus boreas boss in wolvendom, genshin impact - two weeks ago]  
> me with my severely underlevelled team: please let me beat u, i will do anything, even write sakuatsu porn.. plEASe  
> the wolf boss (lvl 92): lmao bet
> 
> aka how i got roped into writing porn, a cautionary tale

When Atsumu first invited Kiyoomi over for a ‘Netflix and Chill’ date night, this really isn’t exactly what he had in mind. 

In all fairness, Atsumu isn’t quite sure that Kiyoomi knows what ‘Netflix and Chill’ really _means_. The outside hitter has never really involved himself with what Atsumu likes to call 'the language of the youths' preferring to maintain an internet presence deemed merely “passable” by the Black Jackals’ PR team at best. Which is completely the opposite with Atsumu, who prides himself for being very “present” (his words) or “obnoxiously in your face” (Osamu’s words) on social media. Why, just the other day, Atsumu had watched Kiyoomi pull Shoyo aside at the izakaya to quietly ask what ‘poggers’ meant. 

So really, it makes sense that they are currently three episodes into Terrace House and Kiyoomi’s eyes are glued to the tv screen, with seemingly no plans anytime soon to stop the Netflix and to start the chilling. 

Which is fine. Really, it is. Atsumu is more than fine with sitting upright on the sofa with Kiyoomi on his side, cheek resting on Atsumu’s lap, the pearlescent glow of the television screen casting soft shadows on his face. It’s an incredibly domestic and soft moment that has Atsumu feeling warm and fuzzy inside that he’s allowed to see this new side of Kiyoomi. A side of Kiyoomi that Atsumu has only recently been allowed to see in the privacy of their own apartments and off the court. 

It’s been a little over three weeks now -- give or take -- since they officially started dating. The confession itself was simple. It happened after Kiyoomi had landed a particularly nasty spike deep into the corners of the Tachibana Red Falcons’ court, scoring them a win. 

As the arena erupted in cheers, Atsumu found himself next to Kiyoomi as they moved into a victory group huddle. The rest of the team had quickly dispersed into the changerooms, but Atsumu lingered, falling into step with the outside hitter as they left the court. 

“Go on a date with me?” Were the words that spilled out of Atsumu’s mouth before he could stop himself.

He had meant to say, “Good game.”

But somehow --for reasons unknown-- Kiyoomi simply blinked at him and said, “Sure.”

(Atsumu thought that maybe he had meant to say, “Nice set.”)

Dinner that night was just the two of them, tucked in a private booth of an izakaya several streets down from the Jackals' dorms. And when Kiyoomi leaned over the table, Atsumu found that his lips were as soft as they always looked and he tasted like the chestnut cream cake between them -- warm and grounded and maybe, like the start of something new.

Atsumu couldn’t deny that this was one of the more impulsive moments in his life that had worked out in his favour. 

(There were not that many.)

“Hmm.” Atsumu snaps out of his daydream as Kiyoomi nudges his hand impatiently. He immediately moves to card his hands softly through inky black curls. On his lap, Kiyoomi makes a soft contented noise. 

They’ve agreed to take it slow, but as Atsumu has come to discover over the last few weeks of lingering touches and stolen kisses, he is beginning to grow incredibly greedy for more. 

And with the greed comes the worry. There is a time and place for everything and while Atsumu knows all about perfect angles and timings on the court, he isn’t sure how exactly to breach the topic of bedroom affairs with his new boyfriend. Not even WikiHow can help him. And believe him, he's tried.

If Atsumu was back on his old bullshit, he would’ve jumped Kiyoomi a long time ago, decorum be damned. But this is Sakusa Kiyoomi he’s talking about. Careful, meticulous Kiyoomi who carries his words like a blunt sword but yet holds his own heart in his hands. Atsumu really, really likes Sakusa Kiyoomi and he really, _really_ doesn’t wanna mess things up. 

As the credits begin to play on the screen again, Kiyoomi turns to look up at Atsumu. 

“Okay. Are we going to have sex or what?”

Atsumu freezes, splotches of pink blossoming onto his face as he sputters. “What?” 

Kiyoomi, for his part, looks completely unfazed. “I believe I have suffered through three hours of Netflix, so when do I get the chill?” 

Atsumu cannot believe what he’s hearing. “You know what that means?” 

“Of course I do.” Kiyoomi pauses, ears slightly pink. “I asked Shoyo-kun before I came over.” 

The thought of Kiyoomi asking poor innocent Hinata Shoyo what ‘Netflix and Chill’ means sends Atsumu into a fit of incredulous laughter. “What did he say?”

Kiyoomi smiles quietly. “Stay safe, Omi-san.” 

And then they’re both laughing: happy, belly-shaking laughs that have Atsumu’s previous worries vanishing in a heartbeat. As Atsumu looks at his boyfriend with crescent eyes, all thoughts go out the window until it’s just Kiyoomi. 

Because it has always been just Kiyoomi. 

Kiyoomi’s laughter trails off as he catches the look in Atsumu’s eyes. His eyes flick down as his tongue darts out to lick his lips unconsciously. Atsumu swallows.

For a second, no one says anything. 

Then slowly, _slowly_ , Kiyoomi tilts his head and reaches up, pressing his lips softly against Atsumu’s. When he pulls back slightly, their noses brush. “I’ve been wanting to do that for the past three hours.” 

Atsumu stares, feeling kind of stupid. “So yer telling me that I could’ve spent the last three hours kissin’ ya but instead, I just sat there like a dumbass?” 

“The biggest dumbass.” 

“Mmm. Gotta make up for lost time then.” Atsumu pulls Kiyoomi closer, hand snaking around the back of Kiyoomi’s neck as his lips find Kiyoomi’s easily once more. 

Kissing Kiyoomi is intoxicating, Atsumu muses, as he runs his tongue along Kiyoomi’s bottom lip hungrily. Kiyoomi kisses like how he plays on court — with a confidence and earnestness that has Atsumu wanting more. He shifts, hooking a leg around Kiyoomi’s hips as his fingers begin to pull at the edges of the other man’s shirt. 

“Wait,” Kiyoomi leans away for a second and Atsumu frowns. “We should move to the bedroom.”

The bedroom seems miles away. Atsumu doesn’t want to walk that far. He gives Kiyoomi his best sultry bedroom eyes look, fingers trailing down down his chest. “Or...we can just stay here.” 

Kiyoomi blinks, a look of concern flashing across his face. “Is there something in your eye?”

Atsumu flushes. Okay. So maybe the bedroom eyes aren’t working. It’s been awhile. 

Instead of answering, Atsumu hides his ever-growing embarrassment by pressing kisses into the crook of Kiyoomi’s neck and nipping at the space where his neck meets jaw. 

The couch is not built to fit two large professional athletes. They are well aware of this as Kiyoomi hovers awkwardly over Atsumu, his leg hanging off the edge of the seat cushion. Kiyoomi doesn’t seem to care though, as he leans in for more kisses and Atsumu smiles against the corners of his lips. 

When Atsumu slips his hands under Kiyoomi’s shirt again, fingers skating gently across a toned stomach and hard muscles, Kiyoomi groans, hips grinding down instinctively. A moan bubbles its way past Atsumu’s lips as he tugs at Kiyoomi’s shirt impatiently, trying to pull it off...

…Only to have Kiyoomi’s elbow knock into the back of the couch just as the shirt is halfway over his head, sending Kiyoomi tumbling to the ground as he loses his balance. 

“Omi!” Atsumu flinches, eyes wide. “You good?” 

“I’m fine.” Kiyoomi grunts from the floor as he pokes his head back through his shirt, rubbing his backside.

Atsumu bites his lip, trying not to laugh. “Maybe we _should_ move to the bedroom.” 

Kiyoomi snorts, shaking his head in exasperation. He grasps Atsumu’s hand and lets himself be pulled up. “Let’s.” 

As they make their way down the hall to Atsumu’s room, Atsumu can’t help but sneak a peek behind him. So far, things are not going according to plan. Not that Atsumu really had one to begin with. In typical Atsumu fashion, he had a goal with no step-by-step process in mind when he invited Kiyoomi over. 

It isn’t their first time having sex, but it’s their first time with each other. There is always something inherently awkward about the first time with a new partner. The uncertainty of what the partner likes and the eagerness to find out ripples through Atsumu like waves as he hovers in front of the door to his room. 

“Stop overthinking it,” Kiyoomi says gently, as if he can see the thoughts swirling above Atsumu’s head. That’s the thing with Kiyoomi. Even when Atsumu tries to hide his struggles, somehow, Kiyoomi is the only one who can always see past him and accept him for who he is, flaws and all. 

Gently, Kiyoomi tilts Atsumu’s face up to press a soft kiss to his lips. Atsumu lets himself melt into the kiss, wrapping an arm around Kiyoomi’s neck as he fumbles to push the door open. 

They stumble into the room, kisses growing more heated as they fall into bed, mattress creaking under their weight. Atsumu props himself up on the pillows as Kiyoomi leans over him, slotting himself between Atsumu’s legs as he licks into Atsumu’s mouth. The blond makes an impatient noise, fingers slipping under the hem of Kiyoomi’s shirt again and Kiyoomi laughs, breaking the kiss to pull his shirt off and toss it to the side. 

“You cleaned your room for me.”

Atsumu scoffs. “My room has always been clean.” He also broke out a pair of brand new Calvin Kleins for the occasion, but no way in hell was he admitting that. 

Kiyoomi gives him a look. Although Atsumu doesn’t think he’s a messy person, he acknowledges that he isn’t necessarily the cleanest one either. At least, not like Kiyoomi.

“Don’t give me that look, Omi!” Atsumu whines, “or— or I’ll kiss it off of ya.” 

“Yeah?” A glint of mischief flashes in Kiyoomi’s eyes. A challenge. 

Atsumu growls as he hooks a leg around Kiyoomi’s torso and pushes so that he is now on top with Kiyoomi pinned under him, black curls fanning out on stark white sheets. 

“Yer on.” Atsumu yanks his own shirt off before leaning back to admire the view. It isn’t anything he hasn’t seen before; he's caught glimpses of milky skin in the Jackals' locker room on several occasions, but this is different. Atsumu allows himself to stare, eyes drinking in everything, hands memorizing the hard lines and contours of Kiyoomi’s chiseled body. 

Then almost hesitantly, Atsumu reaches out to map the expanse of Kiyoomi’s body under him. He traces the ridges of built muscle, his fingers dancing curiously across prominent hip bones as Kiyoomi watches him with rapt attention, tongue licking his lips in anticipation. Once Atsumu is done tracing moles and kissing Kiyoomi's collarbone, he slides down lower, lips ghosting along Kiyoomi’s torso until he reaches the waistband of his sweats. 

“Atsumu—“

“Yes?” Atsumu pushes the fabric down and slips his hand past the waistband of Kiyoomi’s underwear, fingers curling around the base of his dick. 

“ _Oh_ ,” Kiyoomi chokes out, head falling back into the pillows as Atsumu looks up and is suddenly hit with a wave of affection. Awkward first times be damned, Atsumu has never wanted to learn how to love someone as much as he does in this moment. 

He tugs the sweatpants and underwear the rest of the way off with Kiyoomi’s help before settling in between his thighs, hands stroking Kiyoomi’s swollen erection in long pumps, squeezing at the base and loosening his grip at the tip. Atsumu watches carefully, adjusting his grip every so often to measure Kiyoomi’s reaction. When Kiyoomi lets out a low moan, Atsumu smiles, the sound stoking the flames of greed in Atsumu’s lower belly. 

He ducks down, tongue flicking out to swirl experimentally against the head of Kiyoomi’s dick, smiling as Kiyoomi’s hands tangle in his hair. 

“Ah, please.” 

Atsumu hums, tongue massaging the underside of Kiyoomi’s length before taking him fully into his mouth. Kiyoomi’s breath catches as Atsumu goes to work on his erection, cheeks hollowing as he works towards finding a rhythm that has Kiyoomi falling apart under him. “Fuck.”

Every moan fuels him as Atsumu sucks Kiyoomi off with growing confidence, all previous uncertainty fading, replaced with full, unbridled lust. He trails his hands down lower, fingers circling around Kiyoomi’s entrance and is rewarded with a sharp inhale. 

“Is this okay?” Atsumu asks tentatively. 

“Yeah.” Kiyoomi nods, a rosy flush dusting his cheeks. His lips are parted as he looks down — all pink and kiss-bitten. “More than okay.”

The mattress creaks in protest as Atsumu half slides off the bed towards the night side table for the bottle of lube and condoms tucked inside the drawer. 

“Let me—“ Kiyoomi begins, hands reaching for Atsumu’s pants.

Atsumu shakes his head, kicking off his own pants hastily. His dick springs up, free from the confines of his pants, to press against his stomach. “It’s okay.” He leans down back onto the mattress and presses a quick kiss to Kiyoomi’s temple. “Let me take care of ya, Omi.”

“You always take care of me,” Kiyoomi mumbles, throwing an arm over his face as Atsumu once again takes Kiyoomi into his mouth, a slicked finger pressing into his entrance. 

Atsumu sucks Kiyoomi off gently this time, mouthing only around the head, tongue swirling as his finger works him open. He watches Kiyoomi’s hip twitch when he slides in a second finger, pads brushing against the bundle of nerves that has Kiyoomi clutching the sheets, a throaty moan escaping his lips. 

“More,” Kiyoomi whispers hoarsely, and Atsumu obliges, moaning around his cock, fingers curling in an angle that has Kiyoomi gasping as delicious shockwaves of pleasure rack through his body. 

It’s almost too much, when Kiyoomi’s hip bucks up again, the head of his dick hitting the back of Atsumu’s throat, his own dick leaking with precum as he ruts against the mattress frustratedly. 

“Atsumu.”

Fingers tangle into Atsumu’s blond hair as Kiyoomi pulls him up and off his dick, and captures his lips in a searing kiss. When Kiyoomi reaches up to cup his jaw, Atsumu allows himself to fall apart.

Kiyoomi continues to kiss down the expanse of his neck, sucking small hickeys as his fingers wrap around Atsumu’s neglected dick. Kiyoomi jerks Atsumu off with precise flicks and twists of his wrist that have the blond clutching him for support. “Next time, let me take care of you, okay?” Kiyoomi nuzzles the crook of Atsumu’s neck. 

His hips stutter at the words and Atsumu groans. “Okay.” 

Kiyoomi smiles, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Now please, just fuck me already.”

Atsumu doesn’t need to be told twice. 

There’s a tear of foil from the condom as Atsumu kneels at the foot of the bed to prepare himself. He rolls the condom on and after a few cursory pumps of lube, he lines himself up to Kiyoomi’s entrance. 

Kiyoomi has a hand on his forehead, lips parted as he looks up at Atsumu with an expression that he can only describe as hunger, mixed with a bit of nervousness. A wave of emotions hits him like a brick as Atsumu reaches to brush the hair away from Kiyoomi’s face. 

“Stop overthinking it,” Atsumu parrots back and Kiyoomi’s lips quirk up into a small smile, arms reaching up to pull Atsumu closer, to let his lips brush against his briefly.

What Atsumu lacks in tact, he makes up with carefulness and it’s that carefulness he shows now as he pushes into Kiyoomi slowly, stretching him an inch at a time until their hips kiss.

He can feel Kiyoomi drag in a sharp breath as Atsumu waits for him to adjust. When Kiyoomi nods, Atsumu lets his hips snap forward slowly, his arms coming up to brace themselves on either side of Kiyoomi's head.

Instead of kisses, Atsumu finds himself leaning forward as he fucks Kiyoomi slowly, tenderly, his forehead resting against Kiyoomi’s as they move in sync in a way that Atsumu thinks they could never do even on court.

Atsumu shifts, hips swiveling and Kiyoomi makes a sound so _desperate_ it makes Atsumu’s head dizzy as passion tears through the seams of his body. “Fuck. You feel so —”

“Atsumu.” Kiyoomi breathes and he reaches almost blindly as his hips buck up, hands finding one anothers as he laces their fingers together — an action seemingly more intimate than the position they are currently in. 

Atsumu blushes, his next thrust missing a beat as he revels in the intimacy of it all. “I like it when you call me that.” 

Kiyoomi looks up through long lashes. “Like what?” He blinks innocently, legs wrapping around Atsumu’s waist to pull him even deeper. ”Miya-senshu?” 

“Not that!” Atsumu nearly chokes, giving Kiyoomi a soft whack with his free hand as he picks up the pace, watching as Kiyoomi’s free hand grabs a fistful of sheets, head falling back into the pillows in pleasure. “I like it when you call me Atsumu.” 

A ghost of a smile appears as Kiyoomi squeezes his eyes shut, breathing laboured. “ _Atsumu_.” 

And this time, Atsumu does choke, letting out a moan as the pressure building in him becomes almost too much. There’s a stutter in his hips as Atsumu kisses Kiyoomi, all messy and full of love as he wraps a hand around Kiyoomi’s dick, thumb rubbing over the slit slicked with precum as his hips snap into place. 

Like an arrow pulled taut, Atsumu watches as Kiyoomi unravels in his arms, coming all over his stomach with a groan. The feeling of Kiyoomi clenching around him is too much and Atsumu lets go, allowing the pleasure to consume him as he finishes as well, several beats later. 

Atsumu never lets go of Kiyoomi’s hand, squeezing it as he rides out his orgasm before collapsing bonelessly next to Kiyoomi in the bed, all sticky and blissed out. 

Kiyoomi is a cuddler, something Atsumu learns a few seconds later when he curls up next to Atsumu after cleaning himself up with a wet wipe. “Kiss,” Kiyoomi practically demands, finger booping him gently on the nose in a tender gesture.

Atsumu blinks, prying one eye open as he puckers his lips. “Come get it.”

There’s a soft chuckle and Kiyoomi’s hair flops onto Atsumu’s face as he leans down. The kiss is soft and sweet and Atsumu finds himself smiling into it, holding the moment close to his heart. 

It’s funny, how nervous he was in the first place when he and Kiyoomi seemed to fit so easily together. They always have. 

“Next time, just tell me that you wanna have sex,” Kiyoomi noses at him sleepily. “None of this ‘Netflix and Chill’ bullshit.” 

Atsumu laughs. “Okay.” 

**Author's Note:**

> thank u to [ion](https://archiveofourown.org/users/unrequitedangst) for the watching me flail in my docs 
> 
> [twitter](https://twitter.com/hanoorins)


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